Dedication
by sunfrenchie
Summary: "You really want to help me, Sam?" Andy's voice sounded exasperated. Sam only nodded in response. "Hit me." It took him a while to realize she was being serious. "Excuse me?" Andy is undercover - read to find out how it comes to this conversation. Multi-chapter, rated M for some violence and language, as well as adult content in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_My first fanfiction ever! Thought I'd try it, since I enjoy everyone's stories so much… Also, I'd like to be a Beta Reader and the guidelines say I have to publish a couple of stories of my own first. So here's my attempt at that, hope you enjoy. I highly welcome reviews and constructive criticism. _

_This is based on the following scenario: Andy returns from her undercover operation, finds that Sam is with Marlo. Their relationship throughout the entire season remains tense and awkward. In general, she finds many things have changed while she was away and she isn't sure she fits in anymore. At the end, Boyd approaches Andy with another undercover opportunity and she decides to go._

_Rated M for some violence and a bit of swearing - and smut in a later chapter. Actually, it all started with some plotless smut, no idea where all of this came from...  
If you're reading this just for the smut, you should focus your attention on Chapter 6.  
_

_I don't own anything, this is just for fun. _

Chapter 1

Hearing her name in the hallway still unsettled him. But she was still working here, of course, so it couldn't be helped. Especially after she had vanished again the colleagues were talking, wondering what kind of undercover operation she was involved with this time. However, whenever Marlo or Sam approached, the conversation topic was usually changed subtly. Their weird relationship triangle was nothing anyone wanted to get involved with.

She had been gone for two months and, although he didn't admit it to others or himself, Sam's thoughts wandered to Andy quite frequently, wondering where she was and how she was doing. In his darker hours, usually lying awake in bed, he wondered if she was with anyone. But then again, since she was undercover, it was highly unlikely. At least she wasn't with Nick this time, which was a bit of a consolation. When Sam turned around in his bed, seeing the form of sleeping Marlo lying next to him, he told himself that he didn't have any right to wonder about these things anyway.

On this particular evening, when Sam heard the name McNally mentioned in an office he passed by, he involuntarily stopped in his tracks. It wasn't Andy's friends talking about her, as often, hoping she'd be back soon. The voice he heard belonged to Boyd, who most certainly was involved in her disappearance. Since he still didn't trust that man, especially not with Andy's well-being, Sam stood close to the open door, pretending to be interested in the notice board hanging next to it, eavesdropping on Boyd's phone conversation in what he hoped was a stealthy manner.

What he gathered from the one-sided conversation was that McNally had failed to check in, which she was supposed to do every day at a certain time. Boyd didn't seem too concerned and was trying to reassure the person at the other end of the line. All Sam could think of was that they'd been there before and that, last time, things could've gone terribly wrong if Andy hadn't been able to contact him. But what if things had gone south too quickly this time, not leaving her time to ask anyone for help? What if she was lying somewhere, hurt? Held at gunpoint? Tied up? Or worse…. His brain went through all of these possibilities in just a few seconds, and he decided that someone had to have her back, since Boyd apparently didn't. This time, there was also no colleague who had disappeared at the same time, so Sam had to assume she was without any immediate backup.

He entered the office, offering Boyd a fake smile. The other man hushed immediately, looking at Sam, perplexed. "Please, don't mind me. Finish your conversation, I can wait," Sam said, sitting down on a desk and looking at Boyd expectantly. "Listen, I'll have to call you back…. No, we're doing nothing for now. Just wait." He hung up the phone slowly; weary about the conversation that was going to follow. "Listen, Swarek…" But Sam interrupted him with a simple gesture, raising his hand. He was going to _try_ to approach this with reason, at least. "Boyd, we both know what's going to happen. You're going to tell me where McNally is, and I will check up on her. The question is only, how we will get there. How much shouting this will involve and whether I have to go over your head to get the information I need. Quite frankly, this day has been way too long already, so I hope we can get this over with quickly." As if to reinforce his point, he pinched his nose in a gesture of weariness.

"And there I thought Cruz was your girlfriend," Boyd smiled at him maliciously. In his eyes, there was no use hiding the fact that they despised each other. "I realize that this might be a concept you're not familiar with, but Andy and I used to be partners and we are still friends", Sam replied with as much patience as he could muster. "And friends have each other's back, no matter what."

"Friends," Boyd snorted. "I see." He stood up from his desk chair, browsing through a few documents without paying particular attention to any of them. "You know what, I agree. It's been a really long day, I'm tired and I just don't have the energy to fight you on this. So I will tell you where McNally is." At this point, relief washed over Sam and he realized that he had been clenching his fists involuntarily, mirroring the knot his stomach had turned into.

"If you blow this operation, however, and we don't manage to put the people we are after behind bars, I will not go after you. I will go after her. I will make sure, McNally never works undercover again and I will do everything in my power to ensure she will never have any career to speak of. Since she is your very dear _friend_" – he used the word so it was dripping with irony – "I am sure you wouldn't want to do this to her." With a satisfied grin, Boyd leaned back in his chair and looked at Sam. "Do we have a deal?"

As much as he didn't like the man, Sam had to concede that Boyd was well-connected and had a few rather powerful friends among the white-shirts, so he didn't doubt he could deliver on his threat. He simply nodded, not trusting himself enough to keep from launching into a volley of expletives as soon as he opened his mouth. "Alright," Boyd was blatantly enjoying that he had the upper hand.

"McNally is undercover in a strip club, corner of Carlton and Church. She's been working there as a waitress, supposedly on the run, hiding from her past. That's why we had to send her in alone. The owner's name is Michael Clerk, we believe he's responsible for trafficking women. Preys on those that are desperate, usually young women whose work permits have expired, offers them a job, makes them dependent, and sells them into the sex trade. Real piece of work."

Sam nodded, listening attentively. All of this information might become very important. This guy, Michael, sounded very dangerous. "She's supposed to check in with her handler every evening before she goes to the club to her shift, around 8:30pm. She wasn't in touch today," almost as an afterthought, he added, "but I guess you knew that already, since you've apparently been eavesdropping. The woman on the phone was her handler, Rachel, who's concerned about this. I, however, seem to trust McNally's abilities far more than both you and Rachel. I picked her for this because she's a capable copper, she can think on her feet. But you don't seem to think so", Boyd was visibly enjoying this, "so please, knock yourself out and check up on your _friend_."

Pulling himself together to a degree he hadn't thought possible, Sam kept from punching Boyd and stood up quickly to get out of the room, before his resolve wavered. He had all the information he needed and discussing his respect for Andy's abilities with this man would lead to absolutely nothing. Well, maybe a black eye or a broken tooth. But nothing productive.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

His plan was simple: Go into the club, sit down, have a drink, 'enjoy' the dancers for a few minutes, causally see that McNally was there – doing her job, unharmed – and leave. This plan was the textbook definition of discretion and could not possibly blow her cover. It was likely that Andy would see him, but there was no way she was going to react unprofessionally. This was Andy McNally, after all.

So much for the theory. He gritted his teeth and entered the club. Usually he would've been happy to get out of the icy cold wind, but the wall of warm, yet stale and stuffy – in fact, positively smelly – air that greeted him as soon as he entered almost made him turn back immediately. This "establishment" probably hadn't been renovated (or aired, for that matter) for the last thirty years. Sam felt great sympathy for McNally, having to come to this place every day for several months now. Disgusting, really.

It took his eyes a long time to get used to the dark interior. He slowly walked over to the bar and let his gaze wander carefully, checking out the proportions of the room. There was the main room with the stage and quite a few dark niches – a few had curtains at the side that could be drawn for the privacy of a lap-dance, he assumed. He slowly wandered over to the bar. To the left of the stage, which was now on the opposite of the room from where he was, Sam took note of a low-lit hallway.

Although he craved something stronger, he ordered a beer and sat at the bar, looking into the room – pretending to give his attention to the stage where a topless woman was wrapping herself around a pole in what looked like very painful poses. His elbows were propped onto the counter. A very sticky and stained counter. He tried for a look somewhere between relaxed and slightly disinterested. However, he had the growing suspicion that he wasn't doing the best job of it; as the woman behind the bar, who had served his beer, kept looking over to him with suspicious frequency. Or maybe he just imagined things. Being worried about McNally had always had the tendency of doing this to him.

He couldn't see Andy anywhere and his anxiety was increasing by the minute. After another five minutes he was finally certain that Andy wasn't here – or at least not in the main room. In addition to the woman behind the bar, there was only one waitress he could spot, a chubby blonde. Since it was early, only a handful of men were sitting at the small tables scattered around the room and none of the niches were occupied.

Sam felt like he had waited for an appropriate amount of time. In fact he'd just been here for 15 minutes, but it felt like a lot longer. Casually, he made his way across the room to the hallway where he suspected the toilets to be. At least this would be a good enough excuse should he be found exploring the area.

There were three doors leading off the hallway in addition to two at the far end, which indeed turned out to be the lavatories. Sam went into the Gents to keep up his cover and, upon returning, saw that the woman who had just danced on stage was passing through one of the remaining three doors. Catching a quick glimpse inside, he found that it was some sort of break / dressing room. This left two more doors behind which he could potentially find Andy. "Like a game show," Sam thought to himself, dryly. "What will it be, Sam Swarek, Door Number 1 or Door Number 2?" He doubted there was a motorcycle or a Caribbean cruise waiting for him on the other side. But maybe the woman of his dreams? He wasn't sure where this thought had come from and ended up blaming the adrenaline (and worry), clouding his mind.

What if she wasn't here? What if her cover had been blown and she had been taken somewhere else to be interrogated, intimidated, or worse? Or what if someone had attacked her at her place? He mentally kicked himself in the head. He really should've gotten the address of Andy's cover apartment off Boyd as well.

In any case, he didn't want to waste any time and quickly opened one of the two mystery doors while the coast was still clear. He carefully threw a glance inside. It seemed to be an office of some sort, not very big, with a desk in the middle. And, to his relief, it was empty. While he stood in the half-opened doorway, he could hear that the other door – the one he hadn't been able to check out yet – was slowly being opened. Since he could under no circumstances be seen exploring this area, he quietly slipped into the empty office and closed the door behind himself, trying to be as noiseless as possible.

Looking around the room, he wondered whether McNally already had had a chance to search through the papers in the filing cabinets and whether she had maybe already found some incriminating evidence to bring their dirty business down. His thoughts were interrupted by muffled sounds. Realizing too late that there was another door at the other side of the office, Swarek relied on his copper instincts and prepared his puzzled 'not-quite-sure-what's-going-on' face in seconds – and he threw in an 'a-bit-drunk' stagger for good measure. True enough, the door was opened in the next split second and out came four people in quick succession.

The first two were vaguely hulk-shaped, the third looked small and bookish and the last one to appear was… Andy McNally. Sam exhaled and realized how tense he'd been since this morning, since he had spoken to Boyd. He scanned her quickly and she looked unharmed – quite well, actually. However, his relief didn't last for more than a second or two, because now came the hard part: explaining his presence in the office without damaging Andy's cover.

When she stepped through the door, Andy was laughing at something the bookish guy had said, her expression changing drastically when she spotted Sam across the room. She never thought it possible to feel this many different things in just one moment. Before she realized what was happening (and what she was feeling), however, goon 1 had already pushed Swarek into a wall, his underarm across his throat, pinning him into place. "What the fuck are you doing here?" goon 2 bellowed and stepped into Sam's personal space as well.

"Neil, how did you find me?" Andy asked quietly from the back of the room, fear in her voice. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going." The three men turned around, looking at her. The small man she had been joking with just moments before said, with a sharp edge in his voice, "You know this guy? What is he doing here?"

"This is Neil, my ex. He's the reason I'm here in Toronto, the reason I left Winnipeg. I was trying to get away from him." Andy sounded shy and vulnerable – no, scratch that, outright _scared_ of him – and Sam was amazed at how much her skill at dissimulation had improved. Within just a few second she had managed to build him into her cover story AND let him know indirectly which role he was to play to get them both out of this without any broken bones or worse. Sam decided to play his role aggressive and drunk; he figured he would get thrown out by the two bouncers and be done with it.

He began to struggle with the guy holding him to the wall, shouting "get your fucking hands off me" and similar such things, slurring the words slightly. However, when goon 1 was joined by the second one and they pushed him back against the wall together, there was nothing much he could do against their combined muscle. "Alright, alright, alright", Sam stopped fighting them, showing his hands to signal his giving up the fight. "I don't want any… any trouble. All I want is to talk to her." He pointed towards McNally, slightly swaying back and forth as he did so.

"Fuck you! I drove thousands of miles to get away from you! I'm not interested in talking to you!" Andy shouted back angrily. The two Hulks looked at the small man who had stayed calmly in the background throughout all of this. Sam took a mental note. Apparently he was the one calling the shots here; this must be Michael Clerk. Not exactly what Sam had imagined, yet he had been in this job long enough to know that not everyone who was dangerous also physically looked the part.

"Candice, when you started I thought I made it very clear that no one brings their personal shit here. I don't want to know about jealous boyfriends, sick children or … your past coming looking for you", his voice definitely transported the danger they were finding themselves in; it was ice cold. This was not a man to be trifled with. He looked at his two bouncers, clearly deliberating how to handle this situation. "Take care of this. Now." He had directed this order in Andy's general direction and started to walk towards the door that led out into the hallway, nodding to his two 'associates' so they would join him.

"Wait, Mike!" Andy put all her desperation into her voice, "You can't leave me with him! He's a total psycho, that's why I ran!" She was just drawing a breath to continue her appeal to Mike's (probably non-existent) conscience, when he stopped her with one glance. "You're right. We wouldn't want a psycho to break anything in here." He smiled a mean little smile and, with another nod of his head, signaled his muscle to help Candice and Neil leave the office. They were unceremoniously pushed across the hallway and out the other door, the one Sam hadn't figured out yet. "One more mystery solved," he thought to himself, "it leads into the back alley."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here, Sam?" She was absolutely furious, and Sam couldn't blame her. She had waited with her outburst until the bouncers had closed the door noisily and they were alone in the smelly alley. He had messed things up, to be sure. Still, the best defense seemed to be the offensive here, and he shouted his counter question, "Why the fuck didn't you check in with your handler? Apparently you are fine, so what on earth could be so important that you wouldn't call her?" This caught her off-guard. She hadn't expected him to be angry and she was quickly losing her high ground. Also, she realized they should probably keep their voices down, to not make things worse.

"You don't get to yell at me!" Andy whispered angrily. "You probably just blew my mission!" But quickly, her anger dispersed and she let her shoulders slouch in defeat. There'd probably be no way of getting around telling Sam why she didn't check in. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn't give up easily. Andy looked at her feet in embarrassment. "My phone fell into the toilet. It's dead, okay? I was on my way to work so I couldn't go buy a new burner phone before my shift." She said this all in one breath and so quickly that Sam had trouble understanding the gush of words.

It was clear that Andy was really embarrassed – mortified, really – and so he decided to let it go. He just nodded and looked at her "Okay. I'm just glad you're alright." Andy was relieved he wasn't pushing this. She couldn't detect any disappointment in his eyes or even a hint of amusement in view of the mishap she had just admitted to. Indeed, the concern etched on his face was clearly visible and sincere. He seemed relieved and in the middle of all the chaotic feelings Andy tried to sort out at that moment, most prominently was certainly happiness at the fact that he still genuinely cared about her, about her well-being.

Andy had many questions about how he knew she hadn't called Rachel and how he found her in the first place, but these had to wait. First, they had to deal with the problem at the other side of that door: Mike, Goon One and Goon Two. Swarek had apparently read her mind: "He probably didn't even think something was off. Just an ex-boyfriend paying you a visit. Quick thinking there, by the way. Impressive." But even as he said it, Sam knew this wasn't true. He'd seen the looks her boss and the bouncers had exchanged. They'd question Andy about his appearance tonight, that much was for sure. Michael Clerk was the kind of guy who wanted to watch things play out and then decide how to handle the situation.

"Shut up, and let me think." Her breath was visible in the cold air and she was shivering. Under different circumstances, Sam would've offered her his jacket. But he was pretty sure that in a situation like this, being gentlemanly would only make her angrier.

"Okay, I got it. You really want to help me, Sam?" Andy's voice sounded exasperated. Sam only nodded in response. "Of course," he thought – and a little voice in the back of his head added "Anything you need."

"Hit me."

It took him a while to realize she was being serious. "Excuse me?"

"I mean it, Sam. The only way to make sure they don't suspect anything is to go back in there looking like you beat me up." As an afterthought, she added, "It actually might help with my cover story, make me seem really desperate, needing to disappear, needing to get away from you. This might speed things up."

"You can't be serious, Andy!" Now Sam was getting angry. What was she thinking? Sure, sometimes this job required them to revert to some unconventional methods, but he sure as hell wasn't going to hit a female colleague. Especially not Andy. "I will not hit you! This is madness!"

"This is not madness - it's _dedication_. Do you think I should just go back in there?" She pointed towards the door that was just a few feet away, hidden from their views by a dumpster. "You think they'll just let me go back to work, as if nothing had happened?" Her voice was rising despite her best efforts. She forced herself to calm down, and look at Sam.

For a few seconds, he didn't say anything. She could see the doubt in his eyes, knowing that he couldn't just let her go back in there. It wasn't safe. But he wasn't ready yet to concede she was right either. All this time, Boyd's threat was still fresh in Sam's memory. Of course he wasn't going to risk her life to save some future career Boyd might, or might not, be able to destroy. But if she thought she could pull this off, maybe she was right? Still…

"I can't hit you, I'm sorry Andy."

"Even if this might save the operation? We could save countless girls and young women from being forced to work as sex workers, being trafficked like cattle!"

"I'm sorry." He meant it, too. "This undercover op is over. We have to get out of here."

She was beyond annoyance, he could tell. Running her hands over her face, she quickly decided for a different approach and forced herself to calm down.

"When we met, on my first day when I busted you…. Can you remember how that felt? Knowing that all those months of hard work and living in a shitty apartment were for nothing? Leading a fake life away from your friends? I bet you would've done anything to go back in, to finish it, to make it _count_!" Andy walked a few steps into his direction, looking for signs that this had the desired effect on him.

"Of course I would've preferred to see it through! But this doesn't mean I'm going to hit you! I just can't…."

"What, because I'm a woman?" She raised her hands in frustration. "I'm also a police officer, in case you haven't noticed, just like you!" Pointing her index finger at his chest, she continued. "I'm doing the same job as Oliver, Dov, Nick and Chris. And I bet you wouldn't need convincing if either of them asked you to do this. I've worked in this disgusting place for two months – with guys grabbing my ass and drooling into my cleavage, I might add – trying to bring some really bad guys behind bars. So stop this fucking sexist bullshit and hit me!"

He could see that her resolve was unwavering. And she had a point. If this was Nick or Chris, he'd have punched them by now. She looked at him, her eyes dark and unreadable.

He didn't say anything in response, but she could tell that he was at least considering her proposition now and Andy knew she had a foot in the door. "Okay, you know what? I'm gonna make this easier for you," she said.

Out of the blue, a punch hit him, square in the jaw. A second one was launched quickly. However, he'd recovered from the surprise and his usually strong reflexes were back to normal. Ducking, he escaped her fist the second time. Although still a bit befuddled, he couldn't help but admire her resolve. After all, this was the woman he loved once. Maybe still did – but this was an internal debate he had to have some other day. Bottom line was, Sam admired Andy for her fighting spirit and her unwillingness to give up had clearly solved more than a few cases at the 15th. But right in this very moment, it was this quality in her that made his life really difficult.

Andy had begun to circle him like she would've done if this was a work-out. In fact, they had done it many times before at the barn – starting on the day Sam made her hit him, after she had just broken up with Luke. Sam had to smile despite himself. He was going along with it, mirroring her movements. They knew each other well and if both of them were wearing gloves and there were mats on the floor he might even have enjoyed himself. But the purpose of this was to leave her visibly injured and Sam snapped out of it: "Andy, don't…. Please don't make me do it."

"I _will_ be going back in there, you know me. So the way I see it, you have two choices: Either give me a fighting chance to make it out of there again or not. What's it gonna be?" If this didn't end the superfluous debate, Andy didn't know what would. Sam grasped at straws, "What about option three? I could just call back-up and blow up the mission."

Andy snorted softly, "We both know you'd never do that. You've been there yourself. And you respect me too much for that." What possibly could one reply to that? He knew he was beat, "Damn you, McNally." In what weird parallel universe did his beating her up become an expression of respect?

Clenching his teeth, he hit her across the jaw, but Andy just laughed, teasing him, "Is that all you've got, Detective Swarek? I can tell you don't mean it, this didn't even hurt. Come on, we don't have all night!" She braced herself for the next hit, which was much stronger and most certainly _did_ hurt. She tasted some blood and thought that this might've split her lip. "Good," she thought, "let's get this over with."

"Hit me back, McNally," he asked after the third punch. He couldn't stand her just taking the blows, not fighting back. She looked at him quizzically, "What's the use of us both hurting?" His eyes were cast towards the ground, "It would make it easier for me. Please – it's the least you can do." When he looked up and their eyes met, Andy could see the pain. "Alright." To lighten the mood, she added, "There are a few things I wanted to punch you for anyway." And indeed, Sam couldn't help a small, lop-sided grin. She realized he couldn't tell she meant it. The first punch, aimed in the general direction of his abdomen, was for breaking up with her. The second was for telling her he loved her while she was holding a bomb. The third was for moving on.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It couldn't have been more than five minutes. They were both catching their breaths, Andy bent over, bracing her outstretched arm against Sam, who, however, wasn't very steady himself. When she finally straightened her body his breath caught in his throat. Her pony tail had come undone and he slowly lifted his hand to remove a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He had grazed her cheek only ever so lightly, but it still made her wince. A black eye, a large laceration across her right cheek, a split lip and eyebrow. And that was only her face. She'd also twisted her knee, staggering backwards when she lost her balance at some point, falling into a wooden pallet – a splinter of which was still lodged in her thigh. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. His voice was rough and full of regret. "Don't, Sam. Just don't. I made you do it, we both know it. And anyway, I prefer this to a bullet in my head." She managed a small smile but not without drawing in a sharp breath, as her lip was split.

"I gotta go, they'll be wondering where I am by now." Sam just managed a quick nod, still not believing what had happened in the last ten minutes. At that point, Andy had already turned around, walking, or rather limping, towards the backdoor.

"Andy?" She turned around to look at him, "you were amazing in there. Your quick thinking probably saved both of our lives." She tried to flash him a smile, but couldn't manage without it turning into a grimace of pain.

* * *

She had barely entered the club through the back door when Goon One and Goon Two appeared at her sides, as if out of thin air. "Let's get this over with," she thought, forcing herself to hyperventilate and, biting down hard on her injured lip, she made her eyes fill with tears. Although her ability to lie had significantly improved through her long undercover mission with Nick, she still wasn't the best at it – Andy could use all the props she could get, and tears would help her look the part. They led her into the office.

"Happy reunion?" Mike's voice caught her off guard. She hadn't seen him, standing behind the, coming into her field of vision only after the door was closed and she was alone with him. All she wanted to do was to smack that disgusting grin off his face. "Mike, I….", she launched into her prepared explanation of what had happened in the back alley.

"You can't work like this. Go home." He interrupted her. Apparently he believed her injuries to be quite self-explanatory. And mundane. He had probably seen many women beaten up in his line of work – probably had done a lot of beating himself, too. Her stomach turned, as usual, when she thought about what kind of lowlife would see women merely as a commodity. Still, she was very relieved at his reaction.

"Oh, come on, Mike, I need the cash!" Actually, she wanted nothing more than to go home, but she had to uphold this mask of desperation as best as she could. After a pause, she added "Truth be told, I don't wanna go home. Neil scared the shit out of me. What if he follows me home?"

Mike was unimpressed. "I'm sorry, babe. Really, I am." His words were dripping in sarcasm, "but you can't bring your private shit into my establishment and expect me to take care of it. You gotta go – home, to someone else's place, I really don't give a fuck."

She turned to leave. "Banged-up chicks are bad for business. Only come back tomorrow if you manage to paint a pretty face over that mess." Luckily, she had her back turned to him and he couldn't see her expression, or otherwise he surely would've seen the loathing on her face, impossible for her to hide for a few seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The air was really cold, as is to be expected in a proper Canadian winter. He rubbed his hands together, waiting. Finally, he saw the woman leaving the club, hunching her shoulders and holding her coat, too thin for the season, firmly closed to minimize the amount of skin exposed to the cold wind. She was walking quickly, but with a limp. He melted into the shadows of an alley until he could be sure she had walked past and wasn't aware of his presence. He then followed her carefully. She stopped at a small electronics store for just a couple of minutes before coming out and continuing to walk with as brisk a pace as possible with her limp.

Not long after, she turned off the main road into a driveway which led to a three-story, run-down building, the maintenance of which was clearly no one's priority. Maybe two or three apartments on each floor, he thought to himself – tiny, to be sure. He waited at a safe distance, watched as she fumbled with her keys and finally entered. Two minutes after she had entered, he saw a light was being switched on in a third floor apartment. This was his cue, and he made his move. Quickly walking towards the side of the building, he jumped to pull down the ladder of the fire escape, climbing up to the top floor as quietly as he could.

* * *

Andy hated coming 'home', because it most certainly didn't feel like home. It was a crappy, tiny apartment in a really run-down building. The heating kept breaking all the time and having hot water in the morning was a matter of luck. In her opinion, whoever had set up this place for her undercover operation might have gone a bit overboard with keeping up appearances. She went straight to the fridge, opening the freezer compartment to take out a tub of ice cream, which she gently pressed to the side of her face. Sighing, she closed her eyes.

A knock at the window a few feet away from her made her jump – which was quite a feat, considering how exhausted and in pain she was. She had only switched on the light in the living room, not in the kitchen, so it didn't take her eyes long to recognize the figure huddled on her fire escape. Slowly, she slid the window open. "Sorry, I didn't want to scare you," Sam apologized with a sheepish smile. "Can I come in? It's _really_ cold."

He looked sad – and just as tired as she was – and if her face hadn't hurt this much she probably would've felt quite a bit sorry for forcing him to do this. But guilt would have to wait until the morning; it was just too much to cope with tonight.

"Alright, come in. If you keep sitting on the fire escape, someone might see you…" Stiffly, he climbed through the window. Before he got a chance to ironically remark on what a nice place she had – it was a dump, after all – she excused herself to call her handler Rachel and let her know what happened. Luckily the electronics store had still been open, so she could buy a new burner phone.

"I should tell her you're here. That whole Brennan fiasco… we really shouldn't repeat past mistakes." He knew she was right, but hearing her call the nights they spent together 'mistakes' hurt him unexpectedly. However, that was a confusing feeling he had to file away for some other day to deal with. Not unlike many of the other feelings he'd had to store away since she came back from her first undercover mission.

"She probably won't be too surprised. I had a run-in with Boyd this morning at the precinct," Sam admitted. At this point, Andy realized everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't even had the time yet to ask Sam how the hell he had found her in the first place. Not that it mattered. The damage was done and they had to deal with it.

* * *

Coming back out of the bedroom, where she had had the telephone conversation behind closed doors, Andy couldn't find Sam in the living room or the kitchen. Not that it involved much looking, since the flat was tiny by any measure.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar and Andy followed the sounds. Opening the door carefully, she could see that Sam had located the first aid kit – thankfully well-stocked, just in case – she kept underneath the sink, right next to several bottles of disinfectant. Somehow, the club and her job as a waitress made her feel dirty. A feeling that lingered in this ugly little apartment as well, no matter how often she cleaned it from top to bottom. It's not like she had many other things to do during the long afternoons she waited for the sun to set and another shift at the club to begin. Every shift was going to get her closer to taking down that scumbag Mike and his associates, after all.

Sam sensed her presence behind him in the doorway. "Come here," he said, with a soft voice that, for some reason, made Andy realize how much her body was actually hurting. "Let's take care of these cuts." He led her to the sink and turned her around, so that the light allowed him to really look at her face. Gently placing her hands on her hips and nudging her, he indicated that he wanted her to sit on the countertop next to the sink. The mirror was behind her now, but in his eyes she saw a great amount of pain, reflecting what her hurt face must be looking like.

Awkwardly, she shifted her weight and hissed involuntary when a stab of pain went through her thigh where the splinter of the wooden pallet had pierced her skin. Sam, of course, noticed. "Maybe we should take care of this first." Taking a pair of scissors from next to the sink, where he had gathered all the tools he could find, and lifting her right leg carefully, he got ready to cut into her jeans.

"What are you doing!" Andy jerked away her leg, which caused another stab of pain to shoot through her leg. "This is the only pair of pants I have. I'm supposedly on the run from a violent ex-boyfriend, remember?" She shook her head in exasperation. "I can just take these off." Unbuttoning her pants, he interjected, "There are fibers in the wound, it's gonna hurt much more than if you let me cut them off."

"Not an option," she answered, bracing herself to quickly rip her jeans down and get it over with. Indeed, a few swear words later, the pants were on the floor and Andy steadied herself against the sink. Sam helped her back up to sit on the countertop. Suddenly, a wave of weariness washed over Andy's body and she leaned her head back against the mirror, closing her eyes.

Sam's hands worked steadily and softly, trying to not cause her any additional pain. After he had cleaned, disinfected and dressed her thigh, he moved on to her face. Andy still had her eyes closed, partly because she was incredibly tired, partly because it kept her from having to look at Sam while he was looking intently at her face – which was basically the textbook definition of an awkward situation. He was standing close to her and his jeans were softly rubbing against the inside of her thighs while he was working. She wondered whether he noticed this and had to admit to herself that the warmth that spread throughout her whole body probably had something to do with this. The silence between them, however, didn't feel awkward somehow, but rather soothing.

First he took care of the laceration on her right cheek, moving on to a cut on her eyebrow. She noticed that sometimes one of his hands would hover in the air just above her collar bone or at the side of her face, wanting to hold her still while his other hand worked on her injuries, but not quite allowing himself to really touch her. These were the same hands that had caused this damage, after all, and he was afraid to make it worse.

Finally, there was only her split bottom lip to take care of. Without noticing what he was doing, Sam found himself running his thumb gently over the uninjured upper lip. For a split second he believed he had heard a soft sight come from between those lips, but that couldn't really be. So he forced himself to snap out of it and pat a cotton pad drenched in iodine onto the injury.

She looked much better, all patched up – but there were a few dark bruises already appearing on her face and around her shoulders, which he couldn't do anything about. No disinfectant needed for a bruise, no band aid would help – just time. He ran his thumb over a particularly dark mark above her collar bone, between her shoulder and her neck, where he had grabbed and pushed her back into the wall.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do about these," he said, his voice hoarse and deep with regret. For the first time since he had started, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Kiss it better," she whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you for all your positive feedback, your encouragement and your warm welcome into the FanFiction writing community, you are amazing! Now I have to learn to deal with the pressure of having to produce new chapters in a timely fashion. I hope I'll manage!_

_This is the chapter where the M Rating comes into effect. You have been warned!_

Previously...

She looked much better, all patched up – but there were a few dark bruises already appearing on her face and around her shoulders, which he couldn't do anything about. No disinfectant needed for a bruise, no band-aid would help – just time. He ran his thumb over a particularly dark mark above her collar bone, between her shoulder and her neck, where he had grabbed and pushed her back into the wall.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do about these," he said, his voice hoarse and deep with regret. For the first time since he had started, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Kiss it better," she whispered.

Chapter 6

Her brain had stopped working – this was the only possible explanation. Her own words surprised Andy to no end and, if she could've, she would have taken them back, swallowing them down for good. After all, he was with Marlo now. They had had their chance and they blew it. A tiny hope stirred somewhere in the general area of her stomach. Maybe he hadn't heard it. Maybe she hadn't even said it out loud, just thought it.

He gently removed a strand of hair that had fallen down from her messy bun, pushing it back behind her shoulder, trailing his fingers over her skin in the process. He slowly bent down, brushing his lips ever so softly against the bruise. Without meaning to, Andy bent her head to the side; this was all the invitation he needed to place another, slightly more tangible, kiss against her skin. This situation was so incredibly messed up and yet she couldn't help but wonder what this meant… She feared that his actions might just be propelled by guilt and pain, not wanting to refuse her, not wanting to add embarrassment to injury.

Lingering for a little while longer, breathing in her scent, he slowly moved his head so he could look at her face. Her beautiful, messed up face. They found themselves with their lips just inches away from each other, and the tension was suddenly very palpable. "This is more than guilt," Andy thought. Looking into Sam's eyes, she saw her own chaotic feelings reflected back at her. Or maybe she was projecting them onto him, who knew. His breath was teasing her, memories of previous kisses flooding her mind.

"I…", he let out a sigh, "I can't, Andy." Saying this cost Sam more strength than he thought he had. Yet he couldn't get himself to move away from her, staying as close as before.

"No," Andy quickly said, feeling very nervous all of a sudden. "No, of course. This is a really bad idea, totally stupid, you're right. I'm undercover, you've got Marlo, this is just a recipe for disaster. I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me, must be the adrenaline wearing off. I'm so, so tired, all I want is to sleep for the next 20 hours." She forced a little dry laugh, trivializing what had just happened between them. While this ramble left her lips, she had carefully lowered herself off the countertop and inched towards the door, trying to avoid any further physical contact with Sam, ready to make a run for it. "You should go. Really. Thanks for patching me up. I'm fine now – great, actually. And the less time you spend here the better. For my cover."

"Andy, stop talking. Now." Sam said with determination, after he was sure her ramble had come to an end. As rapidly as she had spoken, it was quite impossible to get in a single word before. "Come back here." McNally must have stared at his extended hand for a few seconds before she had fully processed that it was there and that she was supposed to react to it – one way or the other.

It worked in Sam's favor that she was too weary to fight against her feelings, to pay attention to her Superego's admonitions. She put her hand in his and watched herself do it at the same time as if it were someone else's decision. She really had no idea where this would lead her – which was bad, because Andy liked to have a plan, and to stick to her plan. But with weariness and longing spreading through her body at an equal pace, her instinct had won the upper hand. It wanted comfort and warmth. And he was there, looking at her with his dark, confused eyes.

As soon as she had placed her hand in his, he held on fast, afraid she would let go again. Sam led her back to her previous spot on the countertop, with her back to the mirror. Running his thumb along her lips once more, Sam replied, "Your lip is split and swollen. I can't kiss you, Andy. I caused you enough pain for one night, don't you think?" Andy was racking her brain for something to say – which was rendered even more difficult by the distracting thumb he had still placed against the corner of her mouth – but realized that another "but-I-forced-you-to-do-this-to-me" argument wouldn't cut it.

"How about this spot right here", Andy pointed to her right shoulder, which was left bare by her tank top. "That one doesn't hurt." Against his better intentions, Sam had to smile and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her shoulder. "That one is pretty intact as well," she pointed to the skin behind her left ear. He ran his hands into the hair at the base of her neck, moving away a couple of strands which had come down from her bun, rubbing his thumb over the spot before kissing her again. He let go of her neck and looked back at her face, waiting eagerly for the next cue. He really hoped there would be a next cue. And there was. And another one after that.

Since Andy's face was undeniably in a bad state, she soon ran out of uninjured spots she could call to his attention. She made a move to pull her tank top up but flinched as it hurt her whole upper body. "Let me…," Sam said quickly, before she could cause herself any more pain. He took hold of the hem, slowly, carefully inching the fabric upwards. His hands were running up her sides, enjoying the contact with the warm skin they found there. When he came to where he could make out the shape of her breasts beneath her bra, he slowed down even more, swallowing hard. Andy still had to raise her arms up, so he could remove the shirt completely, but at least she didn't have to twist in order to do it.

With the shirt gone, there was plenty of unblemished skin exposed – Sam had of course taken care to just hit her where injuries would be seen. Anything else would have defeated the purpose of their fight. While he was drinking in the sight of McNally in just her bra in front of him, Andy ran her hands up his chest now, slowly, enjoying the feel of his angular and hard torso underneath her fingers. To explore his body again was exciting and soothing at the same time; a mixture of what she remembered and what she had forgotten, waiting there underneath the surface for re-discovery. She tucked at the hem of his shirt; he was just too happy to oblige and take it off.

After the shirt was discarded, Sam stepped between her legs again, which suddenly reminded her that she was sitting there in just her underwear. He slid his hands around her and down to her lower back, pulling her even more closely to the edge of the countertop, never breaking eye contact. There was no denying now that they were leaving the innocence of these first couple of feathery kisses behind. The rough fabric of his jeans was rubbing against the sensitive skin at the inside of her legs and she could feel more and more heat building up in her core. A few more inches and his erection would be pressing against her. The anticipation alone caused the heat in her lower abdomen to intensify; she was getting really wet.

Sam pulled her forward those few missing inches and when his hardness started to press against her wet panties, neither of them could suppress a moan. Andy began to roll her hips against his slowly, while continuing to explore his upper body with her hands. She wished she could cover it with kisses, but her lips were in no shape to do anything but form soft moans tonight. Sam had gone back to carefully kissing her neck and shoulders again, letting her feel his tongue now and again. His slow, deliberate movements stood in stark contrast to the urgency they were both feeling. Under different circumstances they would surely have ripped each other's clothes off within moments, but today they had to reign in their passion, which, paradoxically, heightened Andy's lust considerably.

With the last bit of concentration she could muster, Andy managed to open Sam's belt buckle and push down his jeans and boxers together in one go – something he gladly helped her with, a shimmy here and a tuck there. When she took hold of his erection and moved her hand along his length a few times with increasing pressure, Sam involuntarily closed his eyes and let his head roll back. She had always enjoyed the sight of him slowly losing control, relaxing, letting go.

After a few more moments of caressing his silky skin, she slid off the bathroom countertop, where she had still been sitting, and pushed Sam slightly away from her. Before Swarek could open his mouth to protest, she had turned around so that he was standing behind her. Her hair had mostly come out of her bun, so she removed the scrunchie and let her long hair fall over her shoulders. She reached behind her back and opened the clasp of her bra, allowing Sam to slip the straps off over her shoulders and remove the offensive piece of garment.

Andy could see herself in the mirror, watched Swarek pulled her back flush against him and encircle her with his arms, his hands moving over her abdomen to her breasts, cupping them and running his thumbs softly over her nipples. She felt his erection against her backside and started moving her hips in lazy circles again. She watched as one of his hands inched further south, lower and lower towards the edge of her panties, while the other continued to caress one of her breasts – almost as if she were watching a different person. When his hand reached its destination and, very softly, touched her most sensitive spot through the fabric of her cotton underwear, Andy's eyes fell shut. She leaned her head against his shoulder and couldn't help but arch her back in anticipation.

Adding more pressure, Sam started rubbing her clit through the panties, himself getting even harder (if that was possible) when he felt how wet she was. Their sex had always been very enjoyable - but this was more than want. It was need. Her increasingly loud moans encouraged him to pull her panties to the side with the help of his other hand and continue his caresses skin on skin. Exploring her folds, he continued to elicit a variety of pleasurable sounds from her throat, until he finally pushed one finger inside of her, while his thumb continued to tease her most sensitive spot.

Andy lost track of time, couldn't tell how long this had been going on. It might have been hours, it might have been just a few moments. When she opened her eyes and saw herself in the mirror, Sam standing behind her, tall and lean, felt his erection pressing against her buttocks and his slightly calloused hand between her legs, she knew she couldn't take this much longer. "Sam, please….," she whispered, surprising them both with the sound of her voice, as these were the first words spoken by either of them for what felt like an eternity.

Swarek looked at her in the mirror, pretty sure that this was the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life. She felt him nod before he slowly withdrew his hand from between her legs and knelt down behind her, slowly pulling her panties down and placing soft kisses on the curve of her butt. To tease her just some more before offering release, he ran his hands up and down the back of her legs and on the inside, from her knee to that wonderfully soft and round bit where her thighs ended and her bottom started. A whimper escaped her lips, which almost pushed him over the edge already. Enough of this.

When he got back up, Andy gathered all of her hair and pulled it over her left shoulder, bent slightly forward, her hands on the countertop, looking expectantly at Sam in the mirror, drinking in the sight of his intoxicating masculinity. Placing his hands on her hips he – finally, slowly – eased himself into her. After having relished the feeling of just being inside of her for a few seconds, he picked up a slow, steady pace that nevertheless had them both gasping for air within just a few moments. Needing more, Andy braced her hand against the mirror, increasing the resistance he would meet with each thrust.

Sam knew he wouldn't last long, the pleasure was too intense to take for more than a couple of minutes. He placed kisses along her spine and on her neck, resisting the urge to softly bite into her shoulder, as he had done so many times before. He let his hands roam along the sides of her body and to the front, caressing Andy's breasts, marveling at how his hands seemed to perfectly remember their shape and weight. Feeling that he was close to release, he pulled her in even closer with his arm around her waist, seeking with his other hand for that spot that would give her the same satisfaction he felt at the moment he went over the edge and lost control.

Andy's breath had fogged up the mirror and she could no longer see him there, standing behind her. But she could still feel him inside of her, fitting perfectly, holding on to her for dear life. Her insides were twitching and her knees weak. She leaned her forehead against the cold surface and concentrated on slowing her breathing down.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you for your reviews! Sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter, but my job just requires so much overtime at the moment, it's insane!_

Previously

Andy's breath had fogged up the mirror and she could no longer see him there, standing behind her. But she could still feel him inside of her. Her insides were twitching and her knees weak. She leaned her forehead against the cold surface and concentrated on slowing her breathing down.

Chapter 7

She couldn't tell how long they had stayed like this, Andy had completely lost track of time. But the fact that she was starting to shiver slightly – and this time for other reasons than blissful physical satisfaction – was an indication that now her utter exhaustion was taking its toll.

Sam could feel her trembling and was the first to move. After placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder, he took a step back from her, his hands reluctantly letting go of her hips. The loss of physical contact hit him immediately, like a punch in the gut. Now he, too, could feel the exhaustion. It was thick in the room, mixed with some confusion and a bit of unarticulated 'what-do-we-do-now?'.

He looked at her form, reflected in the mirror; she still had her forehead pressed against the mirror, her eyes closed. This undercover mission had drained her of much of her vital energy, he could see it now, very clearly. He could only wonder what deplorable things she had had to witness during her time in the strip club, a place full of misogyny and desperation. And coming home to an apartment like this certainly didn't help. Hopefully she was close to exposing Michael Clerk's operation so she could come home. Of course this mission would haunt her for a long time to come – she would be wondering about all the women she couldn't save, the ones that came before. But Sam knew better than to ask. This wasn't the time or the place for it.

Grabbing a bathrobe from a hook behind the door, Swarek nudged Andy gently so she would slip her arms into the sleeves. She had to force herself to open her eyes, a knot of anxiety in her belly. What would happen now? Being too tired to make any projections or to even try working out what she _wanted_ to happen, McNally let him take the lead and did as he suggested, slipping on the bathrobe. She felt a bit like a little girl when Sam, still standing behind her, reached around her to tie the belt of her robe in the front. It was a threadbare old thing, but it warmed her and she was relieved to cover her naked body up again, as that was helping with the awkwardness that was slowly spreading out, the more the two became aware of each other's presence.

Just a few minutes ago they had been one, but now they were two separate people again who could not possibly conjecture what the other was feeling at that moment. At one point in time, Andy had thought they were close, that she could understand him. But then he broke up with her, which hit her out of the blue. Then he told her he loved her – again, it was as expected as a random stroke of lightning. At this point she had had to own up to the fact that she would never know the mind – or the heart – of Sam Swarek.

She was relieved to see he was collecting his underwear and jeans from the floor, putting them back on without looking at her. Now that he was mostly clothed again, she felt it was safe to slowly turn around and look at him, taking care to put her weight only on her uninjured leg. She racked her brain for something to say; but everything she came up with either sounded incredibly trivial or dismissive of what had just happened between them. Alternatively, she could jump in at the deep end with a "Sam, what are we doing here?" or a "So, what does this mean?" She wasn't sure she was ready to have any discussion about this. Now (or ever).

This loop of thoughts came to a screeching halt when she saw him put on his shirt. The knuckles of his right hand were smudged with dried blood. How come she hadn't noticed before? Andy stopped him, mid-movement, by reaching for his hand and pulling it closer so she could have a better look at it. The renewed physical contact caused his skin to tingle.

"What happened, Sam?" Andy was surprised to hear her own voice so raspy, as if she hadn't used it for a week. Somehow she knew that this was not from hitting her. There was no way it could've caused this kind of damage. For the first time she looked directly into his eyes. She could tell he was very reluctant to answer. To give him a bit more time she reached to her left where the first aid kit was still on the counter top. She took a bit of gauze and moistened it slightly. When she set to work, gently dabbing off the dried blood, she realized that his whole hand was bruised badly and the fact that he wasn't able to suppress the occasional hiss was more than enough proof.

"Sam? Talk to me", she insisted while continuing her work with iodine. "This isn't from hitting me." Sam sighed, after another long silence. "No, it's not", and, as if it were an afterthought, he added, "It's from hitting a wall." Andy's head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Why on earth would you…", but her voice trailed off. It suddenly dawned on her. He had hit a wall because he was hurting. And he was hurting because he had had to hurt her. Sam just shrugged his shoulders. "It just… I didn't think about it. It just happened."

Andy was ashamed that she hadn't seen it before. She was so preoccupied with her own injuries that she hadn't even thought about him – and that although he had been so caring, dressing her wounds, wrecked by guilt. "I'm sorry, Sam." He looked at her inquisitively. Apparently, he couldn't quite understand where this apology was coming from. "It's just… sometimes I'm so preoccupied, so wrapped up in my own problems that I don't see what's going on around me," Andy admitted. She focused on his knuckles, glad she had something to do that kept her from having to look at him. Secretly she hoped he would read between the lines and understand that she wasn't only talking about the present situation.

"Don't worry about it," he said and forced his signature lop-sided smile, which didn't reach his sad eyes, however. "Some people just don't bruise as easily. Or maybe they do, but it just doesn't show on the surface." Why did she have the feeling that she wasn't the only one talking about more important things than their immediate injuries? This was most certainly about something else. But neither of them was ready to spell it out, as that might lead to more injury, to more heartbreak.

Her mind was a blank, and she set out to utter another "I'm sorry." But this time, it got stuck somewhere in her throat. Instead, she just remained silent, looked at him for another short moment and then squeezed his hand reassuringly. "We're all done here." Sam looked down at his hand and saw that it was all wrapped up in a thin white bandage. "Thanks." This time his smile was genuine and reached his eyes.

Sam knew he had to leave now. The longer he stayed, the more he would endanger her cover. And they had both learned the hard way that this was something they had to avoid at all costs. It would also get more difficult to leave the longer he was in her presence. There was this familiarity between them that had always had this way of causing him to be unreasonable. He turned away from Andy and opened the bathroom door. Finding his shoes and jacket outside in the living room, he put them on awkwardly, using his left hand as much as he could. When he was finished he turned around, seeing Andy, as expected, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door. She was ready to collapse with exhaustion, he could tell.

"I'll be leaving over the fire escape again. Just to make sure." Andy nodded in agreement, her expression unreadable. Sam was already halfway through the window when he turned around and blurted out, "I really don't want you to go back in there alone, without backup. This Michael guy seems very dangerous."

"He is… he's extremely dangerous. But I knew that before taking on this mission. There was no way to bring in two people undercover, it wouldn't have worked." Andy said wearily. Of course they had thought about all eventualities, had considered all options. And it wasn't like she was looking to take more risk than necessary. There was just no other way and she didn't feel like having a lengthy discussion with Sam, explaining all of this.

Sam seemed to choose his next words very carefully for fear of appearing patronizing. "But I'm in the picture now. You've managed to successfully build me into your cover. I could be there tomorrow night at the club – stalk you, reinforce your story. And back you up until you know they've completely bought your story." Well, when Swarek put it like that… it actually sounded like a good plan. If she was honest to herself, she was scared of Mike. And Andy sure as hell didn't scare easily.

However, being as weary as she was at this point, McNally didn't trust herself enough to make such an important decision. "Clear this with Rachel. She already knows you were here and Boyd can put you in touch. I completely trust her judgment. If she agrees, come to the club tonight, stalk me, and pretend to get drunk. In addition to my injuries that should be convincing enough so I can make my move on Mike, ask him to help me leave the city immediately." As she spoke, Andy got more and more convinced that this was the safest way to handle things. Neil's presence could be the catalyst she needed to speed things up. The sooner she brought him down the fewer women would have to suffer at his hands. And the sooner she could go home.

"Alright," Sam agreed. He didn't want to say anything else, for he was afraid Andy could change her mind. And when she spoke again, he half expected her to do just that. But she only added, "Sam, no matter what happens, this is my op. If it goes sideways, it's my fault. Only _my_ fault. And if I signal you to leave, you leave and you don't come back to the club. I'll see you when I see you… back at the 15th."

This was a goodbye as good as any, he figured, and left. Cold winter air had come through the open window and the temperature in the apartment had dropped another couple of degrees. Andy closed the window – Swarek was already disappeared, she couldn't see him on the street or anywhere. Her bare feet were hurting because they were so cold. "Hot shower," she thought. Hot shower and bed.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks for all your reviews and follows! Sorry it took me so long to update – I've been struggling to keep up with my 60-hour-work weeks. Luckily, they decided to start road works in front of my house at 11pm tonight, so I have plenty of time to write. Who needs sleep anyway. Totally overrated. So it's me, a glass of wine, and Sam & Andy. Oh yes, and the jack hammer._

Chapter 8

She hadn't slept well. Her exhaustion had helped Andy fall asleep quickly after a hot shower, but she didn't feel at all recovered in the late morning when she finally gave up stubbornly pulling the blanket back over her head. Several nightmares had haunted her in the night – none of which she could remember, but a feeling of dread remained as she forced herself to get up.

There was nothing to lift her spirits throughout the day. All she could do was wait in front of the TV until dusk, when it was finally time to go to work. Her decrepit apartment didn't properly warm up and she was mainly occupied with struggling to keep all limbs under a too small blanket. There were few things she had grown to hate as much as afternoon TV shows in the last couple of months. The prospect of having to deliver the acting performance of her life in the evening to convince Mike to help her skip town (and not kill her) loomed ahead and Andy really wasn't sure whether she was up for it.

As she had spoken with Rachel only briefly the previous night, she called again to explain the situation in detail and apologize for having worried everyone due to a broken phone. Andy learned from her handler that she had already spoken to Swarek earlier; it had been agreed that he should come to the club that night to offer McNally backup and help her get out should it become clear she was in immediate danger. Andy was relieved to know she had someone in her corner – someone in whose capabilities she could trust one hundred percent, no matter how complicated or messed-up the personal stuff between them ever got.

* * *

Covering up her cuts and bruises with concealer almost cost Andy a full hour. Mike had said she should only show up looking 'presentable', so she put much effort into it, also wearing more eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow and lipstick than she ever had before – or ever would again, she swore to herself – to distract from those blemishes she couldn't make disappear completely. And, in a way, it helped to paint her face with what felt like a mask. Irrational as it was, Andy felt safer behind it; as if it were something she could hide behind. Of course it wouldn't protect her in the least, but she could use all the confidence she could muster at this point.

When she finally judged the result respectable she put her black tank top and jeans on, her 'uniform'. Pulling up the rough fabric of her pants over her injured thigh brought tears to hear eyes and walking was rather painful. "Pull yourself together, McNally", Andy told her mirror image emphatically. She decided to wear her hair open today, to cover more of her face, not in a ponytail as usual. Wrapping herself up tightly, she opened the door to face the cold winter air outside.

* * *

Hesitating for just a brief moment, Andy pushed open the back entrance to the strip club after taking a deep breath. It did nothing to relax her. She went directly to the staff room to hang up her coat – her bartending colleague Amber, whose shift started at the same time, greeted her as usual. McNally was relieved when the other woman just quickly gave her the once-over but didn't ask what had happened. One thing could be said about everyone working here: They were discreet – if that is what you wanted to call it. A less positive interpretation was simply that no one gave a shit. Everyone here had their issues and no one wanted to get involved in anyone else's business.

Asking questions wasn't very popular, as Andy had quickly learned at the beginning of her mission. She had had to change her original tactics, which was to get close to the other women working in the club to find out about others who had disappeared. None of the other women were approachable, none of them wanted to be friends, none of them talked about anything personal or anything that didn't immediately concern them. Andy couldn't blame them – but it had surely contributed to the fact that Michael Clerk and his activities had stayed under the radar for so long.

Instead of taking the personal approach, Andy had focused on the business angle, sneaking into the office when she could to look for the paper trail an extensive operation like Clerk's would have to leave. She had already found a ledger with incriminating evidence, which she had photographed over many days – a page here, a page there, whenever she could get in without being detected. However, the mastermind behind all of this had taken care to not appear anywhere, to not sign anything himself. She still had to find something that proved Michael Clerk was the one pulling the strings.

Her hands were trembling, more from adrenaline than from fear. She had given herself a very convincing silent pep talk and, after having grabbed her small black apron, was now walking down the hallway into the main club space with the stage and the bar. It was still rather quiet, just a few men present, but since it was a Saturday night, she knew it would only be a couple of hours until it was really crowded in here. It had taken her a while to get used to men's comments, getting lewder the later the hour and the more alcohol they had in their systems. Sad really. These were probably normal men, having families and children, jobs and bosses, lives to live and rents to pay. There were a few regulars and she wondered what would bring them here 4, 5 or 6 times a week.

On a positive note, McNally had begun to value her 'real' life even more since she had gone undercover for the second time. She had a qualified job to get back to and colleagues that recognized her skills – many of them decent men who never thought themselves superior just because they were male. She swore to herself she'd be happier after this mission. Less questioning herself, less questioning the motives of others, less seeking misery out. She had a great many things to be grateful for and she was not going to get sucked back into the 'the-grass-is-always-greener-on-the-other-side' game. For once she would be recognizing the good things in her life, even if not everything was perfect. Waiting for perfection was just exhausting. And anything was better than this choking kind of loneliness she felt at the moment.

As usual, Mike wasn't in yet. He had other businesses to attend to and it was his habit to show up later in the evening and stay until closing. McNally used this time to slip back under her cover skin and to absorb the stingy atmosphere in the club, which helped her become someone else. Because really, which woman was able to just be herself in a place like this, where all they did was to cater to men's fantasies, to be what they wanted them to be?

It was 11pm already, but Sam wasn't anywhere to be seen. However, Andy didn't worry – her trust in him was blind and she knew he was going to come. He had probably also gotten any information off Rachel he could, including some of Mike's most obvious habits, such as when he showed up at his establishment. She wouldn't even put it past him to wait outside and stake out the entrance until he was sure Clerk was there, so that he could make an entrance that would get Andy the attention she needed to push forward with her investigation.

True enough, Mike showed up about half an hour later and Sam about five minutes after. This proved to be a rather clever maneuver, as it ensured that Mike was still in the main room, greeting the regulars and making friendly with other guests and not yet withdrawn into his private office over his papers. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Andy would've laughed at Sam's appearance. He hadn't shaved since his encounter with McNally the day before, wore shabby clothes and walked in with a very convincing drunk stagger. He even had a bottle of liquor in a brown paper bag in his hand, out of which he took a big gulp now, looking directly at Andy.

Mike's two bouncers / bodyguards were with their boss, of course, and instantly categorized this drunken man as a threat at worst or, if nothing else, a nuisance to the other guests. Andy believed she saw some form of recognition in Mike's eyes – apparently he remembered Neil, the guy from the evening before. Sam knew he didn't have much time before the two burly men would be moving in on him, so he quickly turned to Andy, who was standing behind the bar, displaying her best 'deer-in-headlights' expression. It wasn't hard to put on, really, considering she had no idea what Swarek was going to do next.

In any case, it dawned on her that he was miming the aggressor, and wondered how he was going to back her up if he got thrown out within just under five minutes. It would help her cover story, to be sure, but Sam could not support her from the outside, should she end up being threatened in Mike's office. How was he going to know whether she's alright in there or not? Had he thought this through?

However, these musings were violently disrupted when she heard an incredibly loud clash to her right, leaving her stunned and almost deaf for a second or two. She barely had time to reconstruct that Sam must've thrown his liquor bottle against the wall behind her, where it exploded – very loudly – into a thousand pieces. Involuntarily, she had put her head down and brought her arms up to her head, covering her ears and her head as best as she could. The shock on her face was certainly not something she had to fake. Looking instinctively behind her, she saw that the bottle was still wrapped up in the brown paper bag. So the effect had been very forceful, but there weren't any glass fragments around that could've injured her. "Well thought out, Sam Swarek, well thought out," her inner voice applauded.

Only now did she realize that it had gotten very quiet in the club. The music was still playing, but all conversation had ceased and even the dancer at the pole had stopped mid-movement. All eyes were turned on them. Not exactly knowing where Sam wanted to go with this, Andy started to voice a "What the FUCK…", but didn't get far. Sam had taken the few steps towards the bar, everyone too stunned to intervene. Or maybe they all just loved a good piece of real-life drama and didn't want to interrupt before seeing how it played out.

He reached across the counter and grabbed her head, pulling her forward by her hair. Of course she was moving with him now, understanding that there must be a plan somewhere in this. To onlookers, it must've looked very painful, however, and Andy voiced an anguished cry for good measure. Sam pushed her head onto the counter, her long dark hair all over her face.

He leaned down, so that his face was very close to her ear. He started to whisper something and Andy, while appearing to struggle against his pushing her head down onto the counter, listened carefully to the following instruction, "The safe word is 'Labradoodle'. Say it and it'll take me 60 seconds to come in here with Oliver and Nick. We're in the adjacent building." Before Andy had time to wonder how on earth he was supposed to hear her use the safe word, she felt something very small being pushed between her fingers, which were still clenched into a fist next to her head. She relaxed her hand enough to let Sam slip her the wiretap.

And it all was over as quickly as it had started. Andy felt Sam being pulled away from her and when she lifted her head up from the counter, she only saw his back as he was 'escorted out' by two burly men. For a second she was afraid for him, wondering what would happen once the three were outside. But then again she was quite sure that neither Mike nor his bouncers felt any particular need to defend her (or any of the club's employees, as the events the previous night had proven), so Sam would only be thrown out, but not hurt.

She slowly straightened herself, aware that everyone was still looking at her. Mike, who was looking enraged, found her eyes and mouthed a quiet "Office. Now." He then quickly turned around and faced his guests, putting on a big sarcastic smile. "Oh, to be young and have a broken heart…" This resulted in the aspired chuckles amongst several of the men in the room. With a "A round on the house!" Clerk then further defused the situation – and very successfully so. Without looking back at Andy, he started to walk towards his office. McNally slowly emerged from behind the bar and followed him into the dark hallway, using the few unobserved moments to put the bug Sam had slipped her into the pocket of her apron. For fear of losing it, she had pressed the device so firmly into her sweaty palm that she was sure the imprint would still be visible there in three days' time.

Although she knew she should be scared, she felt lighter than she had in weeks. They were here. Her team was here. She wasn't alone in this – not tonight anyway. Feeling a surge of confidence, she knew she could do this. She had stayed undercover for months with this dangerous criminal without being discovered. She wouldn't even need the backup, but it sure as hell was good to know they were there for her.

Sam had known he wouldn't be allowed into the office with her and Mike anyway, so he had found a way to still look out for her without actually being in the room. If they decided to shoot her, 60 seconds wouldn't be able to save her. But then again, Sam could be in the same room and she could still be shot, so this was as much support as anyone would be able to give her. And Swarek had also just created a very public scene with many onlookers. People had seen her face, had taken notice of the woman behind the bar who was usually just perceived as a pair of breasts and a firm ass, interchangeable with any other of her gender. Mike couldn't just kill her. Not anymore. But it was surely more in his interest than ever to help her disappear again.

With this thought, she pushed open the door to the office.

* * *

_Note: I actually meant for this to be the last chapter, but once I sit down I always write much more than intended. So I'm thinking probably 2 more chapters to wrap this up._

_I love reviews, so please let me know what you think!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Again, thanks everyone for their reviews, they always make my day!_

Chapter 9

Andy opened the door to Mike's office, slowly. He was standing in front of one of his filing cabinets, with his back to her, searching for something – and he didn't turn around when McNally closed the door audibly. She had never been good at silence (or patience for that matter) and standing there, watching him, made her very uncomfortable. She wondered if that was his intention, and cleared her throat to announce her presence once again.

"Listen, Mike….", she set out after another minute or so but was stopped before she could say another word. He simply raised his hand to signal her to shut up. Clerk still hadn't turned around and once again she pondered his ability to make her feel small and at his mercy with just a simple, schoolmasterly gesture. Andy bit her tongue and shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Was it just her or was it suddenly a couple of degrees warmer in here? Her palms were sweaty. Clearly his mind games worked.

"Sit down", he said, vaguely gesturing towards the chair across his desk. Andy did as she was told. Sitting down, the fabric of her jeans chafed against her thigh injury and her eyes watered. Deciding to use this to her advantage, she propped her arms up on her thighs – looking as if she were cradling her head in desperation –, with one of the elbows pushing into her wound. She swallowed the curse that had almost left her lips and it didn't take ten seconds until tears were running down her cheek.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Andy heard Mike make his way over to his desk and sit down on the opposite side. The moment of truth had come. She slowly raised her head and looked him directly in the eyes. There was no emotion to be seen in his face; like a mask it was devoid of any feeling, both sympathetic and contemptuous. There would be no wailing, no pleading on her knees. Andy had spent enough time around Mike to know that this was more likely to annoy him than further her case.

"This man, your ex…," Clerk started out, straightening out some papers on his desk, looking up at her occasionally, "Nick?" Andy interrupted, to correct him, "Neil". He was testing her. "Ah, of course… Why is he here?" Andy was relieved he wanted to start out with some (fictional) facts. Of course she had spent much thought on her cover story throughout the day, and she launched into the story of how she had lived with Neil in Calgary for one and a half years, how he had gotten her involved in small robberies of convenience and liquor stores, how he had beaten her when she didn't do what he wanted, how she had finally boarded a Greyhound bus a year ago with just a small bag of clothes to get away from him. She didn't embellish the story much and she sure as hell didn't expect to stir any emotions.

When she was finished, she wiped away her tears, aware that she must look a complete mess now, considering how much eye makeup she was wearing, which was surely smudged all across her face by now. "You didn't answer my question. Why is he _here_?" He gestured around him, maybe referring to his club, maybe to the whole of Toronto. "I don't know!" Andy almost shouted and then, quietly, almost inaudibly, added, "My sister in Calgary got diagnosed with breast cancer. I spoke with her on the phone last week, told her I was in Toronto…. Somehow this must've gotten to Neil."

"You have been in touch with your sister after everything that happened? That's a really stupid move." He reprimanded her, again the schoolmaster and she the student. "No!" Andy was getting agitated. "She kept writing me emails, but I never answered! Never! Well, not until I learned that she might be… dying." For effect, Andy pressed her thumb into her thigh and the tears streamed down her face again, as if at the flick of a switch. She ignored the pain. "And then she went and ratted you out to your ex," Mike was enjoying this particular type of subtle cruelty. Andy suspected this was all part of his perfidious plan. The desperation and complete isolation of the women he trafficked would always play in his favor. So he had to convince Andy that there was no one else in the world to turn to, no one who could help her except for him. "No, she wouldn't… she'd never…", Andy's voice trailed off, apparently considering the thought that her sister had betrayed her for the first time.

Michael Clerk got up from his chair and slowly walked around the table. McNally got ready to move quickly at the smallest sign of trouble, not knowing what he would do next. Then again, she felt physically safe as long as they were alone. Mike would never dirty his hands himself, so if she were to physically suffer, it would surely be at the hands of one (or both) of his bouncers / bodyguards.

He leaned against the desk, rather close to Andy, and faked a sympathetic smile for the first time. "Gotcha!", Andy thought to herself. His behavior showed that he believed he had her where he wanted her. Andy slightly relaxed, knowing that now she had _him _where _she _wanted him. Playing poker with her dad and, sometimes, his policing friends, had surely given her an edge. She made a mental note to thank him for it, when she was back.

"You need to disappear again," Mike told her, matter-of-factly. Andy nodded, feigning exhaustion when the adrenaline was coursing through her body, and she was painfully alert to her surroundings. This was it. Her 'in'. "I don't have any money, though, I couldn't even afford a bus ticket. And without a job, in a new city, I won't be able to afford a place to stay," she threw in a couple of sobs now. "When I first came to Toronto, I had a bit of cash that I took from Neil's last score. It helped me get settled, but now…"

"I can help you get to Montreal, and set you up with work in one of my clubs there." Andy looked up, her eyes big. "You would do that?" Her voice growing stronger, she moved towards the edge of her seat, sitting up straight where she had slouched before. "I… I could pay you back! Working for a couple of months, I could save the money to pay you for the bus ticket." Mike smiled a smile that could only be described as sardonic. "But it won't only be the bus, will it? You'll also need a place to stay." Andy's face clouded over. "Yes, but I can pay you that back as well… Please, Mike, I need to get out of here!" Suddenly she sounded less sure and reverted back to pleading. If this criminal wanted her completely at his mercy, then that was what he was going to get.

"I tell you what. I'll set you up with everything - travel, a place to stay in one of my residential properties, food, clothes. In turn, you will work for me for a year or so, to work off your debt…", it all sounded as if he was just thinking of this at the very moment, not as if he had already done it dozens of times before. "After that, I'll consider your debt paid, you'll be back on your feet and you can either go or continue working for me, with the same pay you're getting here."

Andy's stomach turned. She had expected this offer, but actually hearing it was like a punch in the gut. She couldn't help but wonder how many desperate women had been in this exact same position, forced to make a deal with the devil. There was no doubt in her mind that this was a way into permanent debt slavery and that none of the victims had seen, or would ever see, their 'debt paid'. Not unless she would put a stop to it.

McNally forced a hesitant smile, looking up at Clerk gratefully, pretending she saw him as the savior he wanted to portray. "Thank you _so_ much, Mike, you're a lifesaver," she announced and slowly rose from her chair. He took the two steps from where he had been leaning against the desk towards her and stretched out his hand. "So we have a deal?" Once she had nodded and placed her hand into his, he held on very tightly and pulled her slightly closer. She heard the implicit threat in his words, loud and clear. "Don't forget who you owe your life to." She nodded, not trusting her voice enough to speak.

It was quickly decided that she was going to be on a night bus from the Coach Terminal that very night and that one of Mike's bouncers should go home with her, to quickly pack a bag with her stuff and make sure there were no more run-ins with Neil. Suddenly, now that she was basically Mike's property, he was concerned with her safety? As if she needed even more reasons to hate him.

She had never been happier to leave a place and, stepping out of the back door of the club, she felt she could breathe again. The cold night air washed over her and she felt relieved that this had all worked out as planned. The adrenalin was slowly wearing off and she calmed down. Hopefully, Andy would be able to blow up Clerk's whole operation in the next couple of weeks. God, she hoped it would be weeks and not months. She was ready to go home, to her old life, to her friends, to…

"Sam," she whispered, knowing he would hear her through the wiretap. "It all worked out, thanks for backing me up. Give Nick and Oliver a hug. See you at the 15th." This was all blurted out quickly, before she had to turn the corner from the back alley into the main street, where her watchdog had disappeared just moments before. This would have to do for now. She would get a chance to tell Sam how much his support had meant, when she was back. God, she couldn't wait to walk into the precinct again.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thanks for everyone's reviews! Somehow this story has a will of its own - the chapter became too long, had to split it in two. So there's one more to come after this, already three-quarters written. Should be a fast update!_

_Enjoy & let me know what you think  
_

Chapter 10

How long had she been sitting in this windowless room that made her feel claustrophobic? She had lost track of time. Exhausted, sore and cold, she was being pushed past her breaking point. When would this finally be over? She closed her eyes and forced to breathe slowly. "Just a little while longer," McNally told herself. "Hang in there."

* * *

The past two months in Montreal had been the hardest of her life, without a doubt. She had spent her time amongst women who were so far gone in their lives of debt slavery that they had given up – none of them would ever seek help from the authorities. The dilapidated house she had been set up in was just one of several, which she found out in the course of her investigation. It looked like it had been a cheap hotel at one point, and there were still old room numbers on most of the doors. A pervasive hopelessness spread through the whole building, like a dark cloak that had enveloped all of its inhabitants, slowly choking the life out of them.

She started working in one of Clerk's three Montreal clubs, which was very similar to the one in Toronto. They had left her in peace almost two weeks – no one approached her with any additional 'requests'. Andy was expecting to be forced into prostitution, which was the criminal charge she wanted to bust Mike most for. It turned her stomach and made her so mad she wanted to rip his head off, just thinking about what he was capable of doing to a bunch of women who were completely and utterly at his mercy. However, no one approached her for quite a while and McNally was getting impatient, asking too many questions around the women she worked and lived with. This had made her quite unpopular and isolated, as no one felt like talking to her about anything – not even something as innocuous as the weather.

After she had nearly been caught sneaking into the back office at the club she was working, McNally forced herself to slow down and let developments take their natural course. Nothing was going to jeopardize her many weeks of undercover work, not even her own impatience. "If this is going to take another couple of months, so be it," she resolved. Of course she was missing home, her friends, and the 15th, but her dedication to the job had always come first, which wouldn't change so close to the finishing line.

Much of her downtime was spent thinking about Sam, wondering, dreaming, doubting… If she came home months after they had met in the club in Toronto, would he have forgotten all about it? Maybe his memory of their night together had faded like the bruises and cuts on her face. Would it be too little too late if she told him then and there that she wanted them to try again? _Did_ she want them to try again? Would he break up with Marlo for her? Maybe he loved her and their encounter weeks before was just a mistake? At that point she decided she had to take up running again, to distract herself. Obsessing about this particular issue wasn't going to get her anywhere. The answers could only be found back in Toronto, not while she was here.

In keeping with police protocol, her handler Rachel had set Andy up with a new local police contact for her time in Montreal – someone who would be able to support her, who knew the area and, most importantly, who had jurisdiction. His name was Tom, and he was the one she now called for her daily report. They got along really well and their phone conversations were the only thing McNally looked forward to during those long, bleak weeks. He updated her regularly on everything he found out about Clerk's operation in Montreal. Of course they had extensive files on him as well, but like the Toronto police, nothing was ever enough to stick, to put him away. He usually found someone lower in the food chain to take the blame and Mike himself couldn't be held responsible. Maybe, by pooling resources, they'd be finally able to bring this man behind bars.

After these uneventful two weeks, Andy was asked to deliver a package to a house at the outskirts of the city. She suspected she was used as a drug mule – there was no way of opening the package without drawing suspicion – and Tom confirmed that the address where she had dropped it off was that of a known crack house. He suggested that the next time she was given a package she should make sure it was in Clerk's presence, so that at least he couldn't claim he didn't know anything about it. She should then hand it over to the police and they could bust him for drug trafficking at least, if not for everything else he had done.

But McNally refused. Drug trafficking wasn't enough, she was in it for the big win – human trafficking and forced prostitution. With a drug charge he would be out again way too soon and his other illegal activities could be carried on by others while he was away. Andy wanted this monster to never be a free man again.

So she carried on delivering packages for a couple of weeks. One night, however, everything changed when McNally observed something in the building she lived in, shared with about two dozen other women – something she most definitely wasn't supposed to see. When she came home in the early hours of the morning after her bartending shift at the club, she heard loud screams from the room two doors down from her. She started running to help the woman who lived there. However, by the time she reached the door, she already heard heavy footsteps inside and the door handle was being pushed down. All she could do was duck around a nearby corner and hide. Peeking back, she saw a burly man leaving – her breath caught in her throat. It was a man she had definitely seen before, in Clerk's office both in Montreal and in Toronto. Connecting a known associate with the scene of a crime was an important first step.

Once he had cleared out she went into her neighbor's flat to see her lying on the floor. Checking for a pulse, Andy found her to be dead. There was a syringe lying next to her arm. She screamed for help and another woman came running. Taking one look she declared, "Overdose. Happens around here – get used to it." Andy was shocked by this woman's matter-of-fact voice and her lack of sympathy. It had probably been systematically beaten out of her by a life that would punch her in the gut whenever she managed to get back on her feet. "Don't call an ambulance, it's too late. And we don't want police around here. Call Mike, he'll take care of it." Turning around on her heel, she went back to her flat.

Judging from the time between the scream and finding the body, McNally knew this could not have been an overdose. Not even an overdose of heroin could kill a grown woman in under a minute. Furthermore, there were very obvious signs of struggle, most notably a knocked over lamp and a broken mirror. Even if she hadn't seen someone else leaving, Andy would've known that she didn't do this to herself. But, as much as she hated it, the other woman was right – there was nothing she could do now. It was too late for her. Andy had an idea, though. Taking off her right boot, she shook it and picked up a small object that had fallen out.

Two weeks prior, Tom had insisted she be equipped with a tracking device. To sell it to her, he had explained it was more to keep track of her movements and the drug houses she was being sent to, than to keep her safe. But she knew he was concerned about her wellbeing.

No one was supposed to know she lived in Montreal, so sending it to her in the mail was out of the question. No one in that building received mail. Ever. The dead drop in the park had made her feel like a spy and she chuckled every time she thought of it. Andy figured that now was the time to actually make use of the tracker sensibly and, apologizing repeatedly (she wasn't sure why, really), she pushed it down into the woman's throat. She wasn't wearing shoes or socks and, since Clerk's muscle had seen her this way, it might arouse suspicion if McNally put socks on her feet. Besides, she had no idea how they intended to make the body disappear, so it might involve getting rid of the clothes anyway.

Closing the woman's eyes carefully, Andy sat next to her on the cold floor for what felt like another five minutes, but it might just as well have been thirty. She needed to calm down enough to call Clerk and tell him in an even voice that there had been an overdose. Having made the call from the payphone in the entrance lobby, McNally went up to her own room and picked up her burner phone, which she kept well-hidden, taped under a drawer. She told Tom that he should follow the tracker to find out what Clerk did with the body. Hopefully they could recover it and find out more about the other women that her neighbor had mentioned – others that had allegedly overdosed. Obviously her handler wasn't happy about her use of a device that was meant to keep her safe; still, he couldn't help but admire her quick thinking. Like this, they could maybe even get Clerk for conspiracy to commit murder.

Her next shift at the club was uneventful, until she got called into Clerk's office sometime after midnight. He had just arrived from spending a week in Toronto and she wondered whether the dead woman had anything to do with his showing up in Montreal. When she stood there and looked him in the eye, there was nothing to indicate he was rattled or feeling differently than usual – the perks of not having a conscience, Andy assumed.

"Thanks for calling me last night, about Trish," Mike started. "Trish, so that was her name," Andy thought and briefly wondered about the woman's story – what had driven her into the claws of a man like Clerk? "Horrible thing, really. I've known about her habit for a while, tried to help her, even offered to pay for her rehab, but she wouldn't accept. She seemed to think she'd get out of it by herself. Clearly she didn't." If Andy hadn't known any better, she could've sworn Mike was trying to feign sympathy. "Yeah," was all she was able to get out without betraying her feelings.

"As horrible as this is, I also have to think about the business," Clerk added and Andy's suspicion was roused. She could feel that this might be the moment she had waited for. "I have two business partners come into town tomorrow… more like friends, really. Trish has always helped me entertain them – she would go out with us, have a few drinks, make sure they were enjoying themselves." He looked up at her, smiling. "Would you like to go out with us tomorrow night? There's this new club downtown, Chouchou – we'll go there, I know the owner." For once, Andy didn't have to pretend she was excited – she genuinely was. Undoubtedly, this was Mike's way of forcing her into prostitution, which is exactly what Andy wanted to get him for. Make sure they were enjoying themselves? This was certainly the worst euphemism she had ever heard.

"Getting paid to party? Hell yeah!" McNally giggled and Clerk looked at her, probably marveling at how easy it was to dupe naïve young women into doing what he wanted. "Great. You'd be doing me a really huge favor. I'll have a car pick you up at 8pm." He smiled at her in a way that put an end to their conversation. "Okay," Andy replied, turning to leave the office. "Showtime," she thought. Since she had no intention of sleeping with either of these business partners, she had only a couple of hours to figure out how to bust Clerk tomorrow night. She'd need Tom's help.

* * *

These were the events that had gotten her to this windowless room at a Montreal police precinct, where she was being debriefed, for hours on end. She explained that she had gotten another tracker and microphone from Tom through their dead drop in the park where she usually ran in the mornings. As planned, she had gone out in the evening with Clerk, another one of 'his girls' and two business partners who had flown in from Vancouver.

Mike had been very generous in ensuring she and the other woman always had something to drink. As expected, at the end of the night she was told to go with one of the men to his hotel room. Pretending to be quite drunk, she had done just that but, when the guy tried to force himself on her, she had knocked him out and waited for backup, which arrived in under two minutes, thanks to the tracker and the microphone. Clerk had been picked up by police when he left the club and a large-scale raid was launched that very minute. All properties he owned in Montreal and Toronto were hit at the same time, both night clubs and residential buildings, and even all of his accounts were frozen (or at least the ones they knew about).

Tom had approached his superiors with Andy's idea of a large-scale raid after it became clear that the dead body Clerk's helpers had gotten rid of by throwing into the St Lawrence River was connected to seven other cases. In all these, unidentified female bodies had been found washed ashore further downstream, with the same cause of death, namely injection with a cocktail of different medications that was lethal within seconds. Now they finally had something to tie these cases together.

Andy would find out later that they found large amounts of drugs in the raid, along with unregistered weapons. All of the papers and files that were seized would probably keep an entire task force occupied for months. Since Andy was an eye-witness, they were able to tie Clerk to the murders of eight women. Thinking of the day she would have to stand up in court and testify against Mike made Andy's blood freeze in her veins. Most importantly, however, they freed over fifty women who had been living 'under Clerk's protection'. Not all of them would see the end of Clerk as a good thing – Andy had no illusions. But, once they were settled in halfway houses, they would see this as a new chance. Or at least so she hoped.

Finally, after explaining the events leading up to the raid for hours to multiple officers, she was finished. They were all friendly and appreciative of what she had accomplished, of course, but right now Andy just couldn't thank them for doing their jobs so conscientiously. All she wanted was to get out. Naturally, there would be more paperwork in Toronto – the joys of being involved in an undercover mission across different jurisdictions.

She left the meeting room where she had been holed up for hours, stretched her body, and stepped back into her life as Andy McNally. Being herself would feel weird for a while still and the joy at her success would come later, for now all she wanted was a shower and sleep. Turning into the hallway, a man was waiting for her with a huge cup of coffee, smiling at her. She felt like she had known him for a long time. "You look like could use this," the man said.


	11. Chapter 11

_Final chapter, hope you like it!_

She left the meeting room where she had been holed up for hours, stretched her body, and stepped back into her life as Andy McNally. Being herself would feel weird for a while still and the joy at her success would come later, for now all she wanted was a shower and sleep. Turning into the hallway, a man was waiting for her with a huge cup of coffee, smiling at her. She felt like she had known him for a long time. "You look like could use this," the man said.

Chapter 11

From his voice, she thought she recognized him. "Tom…?" Andy asked hesitantly. "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet the hero of the hour," he said with an infectious smile, extending her hand to 'officially' introduce himself. McNally pulled him into a hug instead. "I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks for calling in the cavalry." He just smiled and, after she let go of him, brought a bag to her attention. "I brought you some clothes. Sweatpants, t-shirt and a hoodie, should fit you. I'm sure they'll let you have a shower in the women's locker room." He must've read her mind. "Thank you," she said, relieved that she wouldn't have to ask for what was already offered.

"How about you go have that shower while I get some takeaway and then I drive you to Toronto? I'm off shift and you can sleep in the car. Probably beats staying in a motel and taking the bus tomorrow. What do you think? I bet you can't wait to get home." Andy could've hugged him again. She would be home in somewhere around seven hours – her heart leapt and she couldn't help but sport the first genuine smile in months.

The car ride was uneventful. It hadn't snowed in over a week, so the streets were clear and they made it to Toronto in just over six hours. She had spent the first hour talking to Tom, finding out about his work and life in Montreal. He talked about growing up bilingual, with an English-speaking mother and a French-speaking father and how he had stuck around Quebec to make the best use of his linguistic skills. But mainly, he raved about his two little daughters, who were all his pride and joy. However, after a while she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore and dozed off. Shortly past Scarborough she woke up with a start, excited that she would be seeing the Toronto skyline soon. She had never realized how much she identified this city with 'home'. They had driven all night, and the sun was just rising behind them and illuminating the skyscrapers as they entered the city.

Suddenly, Andy was wide awake, bubbling with excitement at the edge of her seat. If she was lucky and her friends were working the night shift, they would be coming off work right about now, so she asked Tom to drive her to the 15th instead of home. It would probably also be considered good manners to tell Frank she was back in person – although he had undoubtedly already been informed by Rachel and/or his Québécois colleagues.

* * *

It was the weirdest feeling stepping back into her workplace after such a long time. Everything looked the same, smelled the same. It was as if time had stood still here while she had been away, going through so many changes and coming back to find everything here unaltered. She would need some time to sort through all these conflicting feelings. For now she resolved to enjoy her homecoming.

Tom walked Andy to Frank's office and promised to wait around until she was finished. She received a very warm welcome from her superior, who had only heard praise about how well 'his' officer had done in her undercover mission and in consequence was extremely proud. Thankfully, he didn't press her for details at this point – he knew there would be time for that in the coming days. But Andy looked as if she were ready to fall asleep on the spot so he simply gave her a hug and sent her on her way to greet her friends.

Coming out of Frank's office, Andy found Tom where she had left him and they walked towards the locker rooms together, where she planned on changing into a set of her own clothes. Walking around in sweatpants just didn't feel right – this was her workplace after all. However, turning around a corner and running into Dov, Chris, Nick and Oliver, she didn't make it that far. If she only could remember their faces forever, looking first shocked and then overjoyed at her return. Of course she had scanned the group first for any sign of Sam, but couldn't find him. It wasn't surprising, considering he was a detective now and on different working hours than the rest of them.

Each of them insisted on a hug and started bombarding her with questions. She promised a round of drinks and the full story at the Penny the following day, asking them to be patient until she had slept enough to not fall asleep mid-story. "I'm a fucking hero, you can't deny me that!" Andy concluded her request in a fake haughty voice and, laughing, they agreed and made their way to the men's locker room. Walking away, McNally never saw Oliver getting his phone out and starting to text. "She's back. There's a guy with her, don't know who he is though." He chuckled, as he wrote this. Sam could use a bit of jealousy to get him to make a move. He had been moping even more than usual these past two months, and Oliver wanted to see this phase end. Urgently. He wasn't twenty anymore and neither was his liver. Drinks at the Penny every other night weren't an option anymore.

Tom had stood back to give Andy and her friends some space. This wasn't the time to force an introduction. He wasn't surprised at the warm welcome the young woman had received here in her precinct. Although he had only known her for a couple of weeks – and their contact was exclusively over the phone –, it was enough to know that she was a loveable person, easy-going, honest and dedicated. And he was relieved to see her high-spirited too, in these surroundings. During their phone conversations he got the impression that she wasn't doing very well emotionally, and that the undercover mission was taking a toll on her.

Tom went to search for some decent coffee to get him through his drive back to Montreal, while Andy headed for the locker room. "Hello, Nash," she greeted Traci after she had entered, and made her friend almost jump out of her skin at hearing the familiar voice. A smile spread from ear to ear, and Traci enveloped her friend in a bone-cracking hug. Again, Andy promised details about her adventures the next day and, instead, insisted that Nash tell her about what was new at the precinct. Traci had always been the best source of gossip around here. "Well," she began, "Gail and Holly are still dating, and going strong, it seems. Frank and Noelle's little one is the cutest little thing you ever saw. Nick has a new love interest, I think, although he doesn't talk much about it… Let me see… what else?" Looking at Andy, she had to try hard not to laugh out loud. She could read her friend so well. Her face was saying, "Dammit, what about Sam, Trace? What about _Sam_?"

"Is there anything else _in particular_, you'd like to know?" Traci asked mischievously. "You're making me say it?" Andy was exasperated "Yes Ma'am, I sure am." "Alright! Alright! What about…", she looked around herself to make sure they were alone, "Sam?" Traci smiled and was happy she could give Andy some good news – at least she believed it was good news. "They broke up. Sam and Marlo are no longer an item."

Andy let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. So there was still a chance for them. Judging from the knot in her stomach that started to slowly dissolve after hearing this news, it suddenly hit her: It was what she wanted. To try again. With Sam. While she was still in Montreal she wasn't sure – but now it was clear that her mind had tried to protect her heart. Had she come back to Toronto and Sam was still with Marlo, then he had clearly chosen the other woman over her. But now that there was hope, she was suddenly sure.

"Wait, when was this?" Andy asked. "I don't know, sometime while you were gone. Does it matter?" Traci looked puzzled. "Yes, it matters! Please, Trace, it's important!" Andy looked so serious that she couldn't help but feel for her. "Alright, let me think… it must've been eight weeks ago. I remember because Leo was sick and I took a day off. When I came back to work, everyone talked about it in the hallways. I was annoyed – you know how much I hate to hear gossip second-hand," she winked at Andy and turned her attention back to packing her bag. This meant Sam must've broken up with Marlo right after hooking up with her during the undercover mission. Probably the next day. Andy couldn't suppress the smile that forced itself on her face. Her friend chuckled and, before leaving to go home, she gave her another hug. "Good to have you back."

Andy changed into her civilian clothes, which she had luckily kept in her locker. Then she went looking for Tom, to see if he had found his coffee and to say goodbye. He was waiting in the hallway, happily sipping away on a huge take-away cup. McNally couldn't help but smile. This guy was pretty amazing and would surely be a great friend to her – if only he lived in Toronto. They had been through a lot and she couldn't find the words to properly thank him for everything he'd done _and_ driving her all the way home on top of everything, so she just embraced him again. They promised to stay in touch and he made his way back to the car.

Back at her locker, Andy grabbed her sweatpants and hoodie from the bench and stuffed them in her bag to take home. Hearing the door, she looked up and saw Marlo enter. The other woman stopped in her tracks when she saw her, but quickly regained her composure. "Welcome back," Marlo's voice was sarcastic in a way that suggested she was anything but welcome here. "Thanks," Andy replied in a tone she hoped would convey that she didn't care much what Marlo thought of her return (which she didn't, really). Quickly grabbing a few things and slamming the door of her locker shut, Marlo turned to leave again, somewhat hastily.

Standing in the door frame, there he was. The man who had broken her heart. But Sam wasn't waiting for her, as he had done so many times before; he was waiting for the younger woman, who he still loved, as he had confessed when he broke up with her two months before. "Of course," Marlo muttered under her breath and pushed past Sam to get to the exit. Okay, maybe she didn't have to shove her shoulder into his torso quite like that, but he was standing in her way.

Andy had heard some commotion and looked up to see whether Marlo had left – but instead she saw Sam just standing there, looking at her. "Hey," she said, putting on an insecure smile. "Hey," he replied, while crossing the room and bridging the distance between them. His facial expression was unreadable. Without one moment's hesitation, his hands cupped her face and he kissed her, softly. Opening her eyes again, Andy asked, "Does that mean you will give me a ride home?" Sam looked thoughtful, "That depends." "On …?" Andy was puzzled. Was it just her or was Sam being weird? "Who was that guy you were with?" "What guy?" Now she was even more puzzled. "The one Oliver texted me about," Sam sported his best interrogation-stare now. Andy let out a loud laugh. "Tom was my Montreal handler and I met him for the first time in person today." His face softened. She teased him, "You do realize that Oliver was playing you, don't you?" There it was – his cocky grin. How she had missed it.

The End

_Alright, so I'm thinking I might offer you guys a reward for sticking with me to the end - another smut chapter to follow, maybe? Review and I will think about it ;) _


	12. Chapter 12

_Alright, alright, alright – my ego has been sufficiently massaged, so here you go. SMUT. You've been warned. Also, it's a really long one (by my standards), so I hope it was worth the wait ;)_

Chapter 12

Sitting in the car, the silence was a bit awkward. Finally, Sam cleared his throat and stated, "So, you're back…". For some reason, this made Andy laugh. "Yeah, I'm back." She grinned at him and he couldn't help but laugh with her. This was going to take some getting used to. "Wait, this is not the way to my apartment!" Andy had finally torn her eyes away from him and looked at her surroundings. "Well, you've been gone for several months, so instead of going to your cold apartment with an empty fridge, we're going to mine so I can make you breakfast," Sam said, matter-of-factly.

"Oh, are we? Detective Swarek, now you're being presumptuous," Andy admonished him with a twinkle in her eye. He looked at her questioningly, and the smile he received in return showed him that she wasn't really cross with him. He was just glad he had actually gotten around to doing groceries the day before, after several weeks of living on take-away food, as he had thrown himself into work to make the time pass more quickly until she would come home. To him. Or so he had hoped.

He parked the car in front of his house and they got out. "Where's your bag? You always have a bag with you, finishing work," Andy observed. "Who says I was working? It was my day off." "But why were you at the precinct then?" Sam laughed at her naiveté. He would have to find a way to show her how much he had missed her. "To pick you up, of course. Oliver texted, I came." He said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world – and maybe it was. In reply, Andy just smiled. It was becoming a habit again, this smiling thing, and she liked it.

* * *

Sam had pulled out all stops – pancakes, bacon, fresh orange juice, you name it. It was heaven for Andy, who had spent months munching some cheap cereals in the bleak, lonely mornings, huddled under a blanket, trying to keep warm. Just sitting there, having company, in a nice and warm apartment was already great. But being here with someone she really cared about and who knew her inside and out, that was truly magnificent. Only under protest, however, did she refrain from having more coffee. But Sam was right, if she wanted to sleep anytime soon – which was probably hard anyway, considering how pumped she was – she really couldn't have another one.

When they had finished, Sam went to have a shower. Andy had gathered that Oliver's text had woken him up and he had headed out straight after. It made her feel all warm and fuzzy, knowing that he had basically run to her as soon as he learned she was back. While he was in the bathroom, she decided to get more comfortable and grabbed the next best shirt he could find, laying on a chair next to Sam's bed. It smelled of him and, as his scent enveloped her, she felt like the stress and uncertainty and loneliness of the last couple of months started to leave her body.

* * *

Coming out of the shower, clothed in his boxers and a t-shirt – after all, he didn't know at which stage of their previous relationship they were going to pick 'this' up – he found her in his bed, soundly asleep. He couldn't help but smile, seeing her relaxed and finally at ease. He remembered clearly how lonely and unhappy he had seen her during the undercover mission. And that was only halfway through her operation, things probably only got worse from there. But no matter what the personal cost, she had pulled through, bringing a cartel of drug and human traffickers down. He was insanely proud of her.

Andy McNally was here, in _his_ bed, and she didn't look like she was running out on him. She had truly made herself at home. Her clothes were strewn across the floor – he could even see her bra hanging over the back of his chair – and her hair was in a mess. Warmth spread across his body, realizing that this wasn't going to be like when they had first started going out. That phase where everything is new and both partners try to always be at their best, look their best. It was an exciting phase in any relationship, but it was also exhausting. She was here, like she had never been away, bringing the familiarity and trust with her that they had started to share after months of being together.

He had been deeply worried that she would start to regret the night they had spent together throughout the months away from him, and that she would tell him so after her return. But she wasn't. There'd be a gigantic 'I told you so' from Oliver, obviously. He felt for his friend, who had suffered through his mood swings and doubts for weeks now. Sam would have to thank him for putting up with all of that. Turning his attention back to the sleeping form of a very exhausted McNally, he decided he could use some more sleep himself, having gotten up so early. Carefully, he eased himself under the covers, trying not to wake her up.

When he heard a very sleepy "Mmmhh, why are you lying all the way over there?", his heart skipped a beat. He decided to scoot a bit closer to where she was lying on her side, with her back to him. Apparently, she still wasn't happy. "Closer." Half-asleep Andy only seemed satisfied once he had closed the gap between them entirely and was closely spooned against her back. She mumbled "Night" and was already passed out again before he could reply.

* * *

She woke up when the sun was already setting, with the warm, sleeping body of Sam Swarek cuddled against her back. There were really no words available to describe how good it felt to finally be here again, to be home, to be with him – as if all the time in-between, where she was alone, pretending to be someone else, was a bad dream she had just woken up from. Carefully, she eased out of the bed, slowly removing the arm he had draped across her. Nature was calling and she tiptoed to the bathroom. Where was that creaky floorboard aga….? Ah, there it was. Luckily, Sam didn't wake up. Being in the bathroom anyway, she decided to have a quick shower.

By the time she returned to the bedroom, he was half-awake, lying on his back. He greeted her with a "there you are" and took in the full sight of Andy McNally with damp hair, wearing his dark blue fluffy bathrobe, which looked rather oversized but incredibly cozy on her. Smiling at him, she crawled back into bed, cuddling into his right side and draping her arm across his chest. Nuzzling her chin into the space between his head and shoulder, she whispered, "Go back to sleep." He pulled her in even closer, and encircled her with his arms. Waking up next to her was one of the things he had missed most.

* * *

"You sleeping?" McNally mumbled into his chest, about half an hour later. She felt Sam shake his head, before hearing him say, "No." Her naked leg had wandered from underneath the robe and was now splayed across one of his, her knee bent and in-between his legs, with her upper thigh dangerously close to finding out why exactly he wasn't able to sleep. One of his arms was wrapped around her back while the other was placed on said naked thigh. Now that he knew she was also awake and there was no danger of waking her, he started to slowly run his hand up and down her smooth, warm skin.

Apparently, she took his tentative movement as an invitation. Beginning to draw circles onto his broad chest with her fingers – how had those ended up under his shirt? – she enjoyed the effects of a lazy day in bed with an insanely attractive man, which had left her drowsy and relaxed and very, very aroused. With every move, the terry cloth of the bathrobe was caressing her skin, which was particularly sensitive after the shower.

Sam's hand had inched upwards and was now moving to where her naked leg appeared from under the robe. His exploration led him up even further to where he could cup her behind. He loved that spot where Andy's leg curved into her ass and he took his sweet time to caress it. Realizing that she really was just wearing the robe and nothing else turned him on even more. Andy was rolling her hips slightly against his side now and blissful, almost inaudible moans escaped her throat. Her head was still nuzzled into the space between his shoulder and neck, where her breath tickled his skin.

Emboldened by her reactions, he widened the radius of his strokes and turned his attention more towards the inside of her thigh; moving up slightly, his knuckles softly brushed against her wet center. Judging from the way she dug her fingernails into his chest and the breath that caught in her throat, she approved. Her breath suddenly felt hotter against his neck as she started to place soft kisses against the skin she found there. The less feathery his touches got, the less feathery her kisses became – finally, when he began to rub the side of his hand more palpably against her wet folds, she bit into his shoulder and ground her hips into his side. "Oh God, please… don't stop," she whispered, running her own hand from his chest further down to where his erection was throbbing, waiting for her touch.

Stroking him through the thin fabric of his boxers, she was surprised at how hard he already was. However, his underpants proved to be quite the obstacle, as she only had one hand available – the other one was trapped underneath her own body. Andy let out a frustrated sigh when he had to come to the rescue with the hand that had just felt too good between her legs. In fact, those hands should never be doing anything else ever again, but touch her.

However, the offensive piece of garment was finally removed and McNally enjoyed the feel of her hand against his silky skin. While caressing his length, she changed her position and propped her torso up on her elbow, so she could explore other parts of him with her kisses – his jaw line, that hollow just over his clavicle, and, finally, his lips. She was met there with a passionate response and Sam's arms, now encircling her, pulled her in closer and closer until they were completely encompassed by a curtain of her hair. His hands wandered up her back and into her hair as the kiss deepened even further. In response, her hip rolled more violently against his and her knee, still in-between his legs, was rubbing against him in a way that multiplied the sweet pain her hand was already inflicting on him.

Breaking the kiss under protest, Andy pulled Sam's shirt over his head and began a hot trail of kisses over his broad chest, his taut stomach and further downwards. That spot of soft skin just underneath his navel was her favorite part, she decided. But then again, these kinds of decisions were always made and re-made, often within minutes. She was fickle like that. Finally reaching her destination, she placed soft kisses on the tip of his erection, then ran her tongue leisurely along the sides, before taking him into her mouth completely.

"You have to stop, or this will be over in 5…4….3…", Sam's warning got Andy's attention after what felt like just a few moments, and with one final lick – which resulted in some uncontrollable spasms in Sam's thighs – she looked up at him, expectantly. He sat up and changed his position so that he was kneeling behind her. She had started to loosen the belt of her (his) robe, but when Sam said, "Leave it on," she stopped in her tracks. Andy knew him well enough not to question his request – he always found new ways to drive her mad (in a good way).

He pulled her flush against him, so his erection was pressing against her lower back, and encircled her with his arms. Pulling the knot of the robe's belt a bit looser, he created some leeway for the fabric so he could pull it off her right shoulder. After having carefully moved her hair out of the way, he started to kiss her shoulder and neck. All the while, she ground her ass against him, in slow, tantalizing eights. Still nibbling on her shoulder, he moved one hand inside the robe, to caress her left breast.

His other hand ran over her side and further down, staying on top of the luxuriously frictional fabric, and finally moved in-between her legs at the height of her knees. Inching up again, still on top of the robe, he brushed the robe against the inside of her sensitive thighs and then began to rub her center again. The feeling of the fabric against her core almost threw Andy into a fit. Her head rolled back and rested against Sam's shoulder, her whole body weight was supported by him now. Quickly losing control, all she could manage now was to turn her head far enough to capture his mouth in what was a mixture between hot, open-mouthed kisses and a series of moans. His ministrations didn't ease up and the spasms that reverberated through her body soon after totally took her by surprise.

His nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck and he deeply inhaled her smell – a mixture of his own shower gel and her very own, feminine scent –, while waiting until she came down from her high. Her legs were wobbly and she had trouble supporting her weight. Sam helped her to turn around and lie on her back with her legs spread, her center completely exposed to him. She watched Sam from under her heavy, half-closed eyelids as he slowly opened the belt of her (his) robe and pushed the fabric to each side so that she was finally uncovered for his hungry gaze.

Sam ran his hands over her upper body with feathery light touches but couldn't resist for long the urge to massage her breasts more insistently. Occasionally, he leaned over her to place wet, passionate kisses on her lips, jaw, or throat which Andy countered with heartfelt moans. But her body felt rather liquid at this point, so she wasn't able to do much more than let wave after wave of pleasure run over her skin. Finally, Swarek slowly pushed inside of her, relishing the wetness that welcomed him – however, only after he had taken his sweet time teasing his erection against her folds and gently smacking it against that nub of nerves, which, he remembered, always made Andy violently arch her back.

Entering her, he let out that heartfelt, deep moan Andy loved so much to hear. She opened her eyes to watch how his slowly closed and how his head rolled back, giving himself over to pleasure, letting go. He kept his pace measured and steady; otherwise he wouldn't have lasted longer than a minute or two, so this bought him some time at least. But looking down at Andy, how she was writhing underneath him, how she was breathing so quickly, how her hair was all over the place, how her hands were fisted into the sheets, holding on for dear life… Fuck, this woman would be the end of him.

His strokes came harder now, and, wanting more leverage, he took both of Andy's legs from either side, lifted them and supported them with his upper body and left shoulder. His arms encircled her thighs and, with every thrust, he pulled her in closer until he just couldn't bury himself any deeper inside of her. The changed angle elicited even louder moans from Andy, who had lost track of all time and space at this point. There was only the here and now and there was only him. Nothing else mattered – or would ever matter again.

Sam didn't know how he had been able to keep going after this change of position, but he held out for a little while longer. Finally, feeling that he was close to his own climax, he spread Andy's legs again, so they were on either side of him. He bent down to her, holding very still for just a moment, cupped her face with both hands and kissed her slowly, leisurely. Andy met this display of affection with a kiss that spoke of everything she wanted to tell him – and probably a few things she would never admit to him, or herself. Her hands ran over his chest and sneaked around his neck, to pull him in closer to the kiss. Having braced one hand against the mattress and slid the other under McNally's back, he lifted her up in one swift movement, eliciting a surprised yelp from the woman in his arms.

He was still kneeling and she settled into his lap quite naturally. Her hands around his neck, one of his hands on her back, the other on the curvature of her behind – not even a sheet of paper could fit between their heavily breathing bodies. With her legs placed against the mattress behind him, she began to push herself up and let herself fall down heavily on him, while also grinding her lower body against his, like a wave crushing against the beach, again and again.

Sam's hand wandered up from her back and buried itself deep in her long hair. They rested their foreheads against each other's. Both were too out of breath to share more kisses; that would have to wait. With one final crush against his hips, Andy drove him over the edge and felt how his body erupted in spasms, which she rode out for what felt like hours, her own insides twitching blissfully.

Neither of them moved for a while, trying to catch their breaths. But finally, after her heart had stopped to race at 200 beats per minute, Andy let go of the short hair at the back of his head, which she must've pulled quite violently. Smoothing her hand over his neck, she leaned in for another soft kiss. Now was the time.


End file.
